Call to Arms
by Sam C
Summary: Third in series after 'Distress Call' and 'House Call'.  Voyager is attacked without warning by a Federation timeship, and as events unfold it seems there is more to it than meets the eye.  Janeway risks her life for the woman she loves.  J/7.
1. Chapter 1

This story is the third in the series after 'Distress Call' and 'House Call'. You don't have to read those to enjoy this story, but if you haven't read them some of the elements of this story may not make sense at first.

All stories in the series contain a relationship between two women with some sexual scenes. If you don't like that, don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy!

**Part 1**

"Red Alert," announced the First Officer calmly over the comm system. "All hands, battle stations."

Captain Kathryn Janeway had been in the throes of passion when her ship, the Intrepid-class USS Voyager, was rocked by a series of explosions. Now, as she struggled to sit up, she heard her comm badge beep from her shirt which had been hastily removed not five minutes ago. Crawling across the bed, smiling ruefully at the young woman who lounged beside her, the Captain stretched down and snatched up the gold-and-silver badge.

"This is Janeway. Report." Her tone was crisp and commanding, as though she had somehow thrown a switch inside to flip from Kathryn the woman to Janeway the Captain. In a way, she had, and it showed in her expression, voice and mannerisms. Despite the fact that she was naked, she stood in her bedroom as though she were on the bridge, and Seven-of-Nine watched patiently, admiring her Captain's compact form and instant composure.

Commander Chakotay sounded worried as he answered. "We are under attack, Captain. A ship appeared out of nowhere and started shooting. The only thing we were able to determine before they knocked out our sensors is that the weapons have a strange temporal variance. We've retreated behind a small moon, but they're gaining on us. There's no response to our hails."

"We can't play cat-and-mouse indefinitely," said Janeway, more to herself than to the Commander. "I'm on my way. Keep trying to communicate with them. Janeway out."

Seven rose from the bed and quickly started to dress, but Janeway stopped her with a brief smile. The ex-Borg had worn a sleek, black dress that, though Janeway liked it very much, wasn't something she wanted her partner to wear whilst walking through the corridors during a red alert.

"Computer, are the transporters working?" asked Janeway.

_Transporter functions are off line._

The Captain turned to the younger woman and shrugged, starting to pull on her own uniform, a clean one from the small wardrobe. "I need you on the bridge, Seven, and there isn't time for you to go and change." Addressing the replicator now, Janeway continued.

"Computer, replicate a uniform to fit Seven-of-Nine."

_Specify colour._

She paused, realising that whilst Seven could no doubt wear any uniform on the ship and do it proud, others might not feel the same way. The ex-Borg had gained all the knowledge assimilated by the Collective, including that of Starfleet Captains, not least Jean-Luc Picard of the Enterprise. She was intelligent, gifted, possessed an eidetic memory and was, despite a few hiccups along the way, unfailingly loyal to Janeway.

"Combine blue and yellow," ordered Janeway, and a full uniform materialised. The stripe along the top was a light green, and when Seven had put it on it looked…right, somehow. After pulling on her boots and affixing four gleaming pips to her shirt neck, Janeway faced her friend. They embraced quickly, a final gesture before leaving the Captain's quarters and making the short journey to the bridge.

**Part 2**

As Janeway exited the turbolift, Seven-of-Nine following on her heels, she noted the tension amongst the bridge crew which seemed to ease slightly as the Captain took her seat. Commander Chakotay began immediately.

"We've managed to keep the moon between us and the other ship, Captain, but we can't keep it up for much longer – three or four minutes at best."

"Is there anything else you can tell me," demanded Janeway, nodding at the viewscreen in an unspoken command. An image of the attacking ship appeared, but it was indistinct, the outline blurry and details impossible to make out.

"Like I said, the weapons have a temporal variance, and judging by what we can see their shields also have an unusual configuration. Tuvok, did you get any information about their capabilities?"

The Vulcan pressed buttons on the tactical console before replying. "Their shields were unusual, but I was unable to ascertain anything more. Captain, we still have the temporal shield generators that we used when we fought the Krenim. I would recommend that we bring them online."

"Agreed. Janeway to Torres."

"Torres here." The Chief Engineer's voice was almost drowned out by background noise consisting of raised voices, bangs and crashes and several alarms, but she spoke loudly enough to be heard, used to the usual din.

"B'Elanna, how long would it take to get the temporal shields online?"

Everyone was still, frozen in their seats as they awaited the engineer's reply. The attack had been sudden and vicious, with no warning and no explanation, and the younger members of the bridge crew appeared shocked, fear clearly daubed across their features. Chakotay was agitated, fidgeting now and again, and even Tuvok seemed ruffled, as much as that was possible for a Vulcan. Only Janeway and Seven-of-Nine remained calmly relaxed.

"A few minutes, Captain. But we were trying to get the sensors working -"

"I want those shields, Lieutenant. The sensors can wait."

"Aye, Captain. Stand by."

Janeway turned to her operations officer, Harry Kim, one of the junior officers who would no doubt one day be sitting in a Captain's chair himself, providing Voyager made it back to the alpha quadrant. Sometimes, recently, Janeway had begun to privately doubt that she would ever see Earth again, though she would never breathe a hint of it to her crew. "How long have we got, Ensign?"

Kim shook his head and sucked in a sharp breath. "A few minutes, I can't be sure."

The seconds ticked by, each one increasing in significance. Silence reigned, uneasy and almost unheard of. Janeway was aware of Seven standing behind her, no doubt with a cool expression that she wore most of the time whilst she was on duty. The Borg had yet to contribute, but the Captain knew that her agile mind would be working, and this was somehow reassuring. When her comm badge beeped, Janeway jumped slightly.

"Torres to Janeway. The temporal shielding is ready. We've also restored partial sensors, and I've adjusted them to account for the temporal variance we detected."

"Raise temporal shields," Janeway ordered, and Tuvok did so. "Helm, bring us about. Let's face them – whoever they are – head on. Arm phasers, load photon torpedoes."

Slowly, like a poisonous reptile, small yet deadly, the ship emerged above the surface of the moon, wasting no time in resuming their attack. They fired, two blue-coloured orbs streaking towards Voyager, and Janeway ordered that all hands brace for impact. It felt like a lifetime passed as she watched in slow motion. The weapons reached Voyager, and the crew tightened their grip on whatever they could hang on to.

Nothing happened.

"Report," said Janeway softly.

"No damage, Captain. Temporal shields are intact."

Everyone, including Janeway, breathed a sigh of relief, and there were smiles all round. The Captain held up a cautionary finger. "We're not necessarily out of the woods yet," she commented, "but it's a start. Harry, hail them again. Maybe they'll be a little more talkative this time."

"They're responding, Captain."

"On screen."

**Part 3**

A woman appeared on the viewscreen, seated in a chair not dissimilar to Janeway's. She was slender and fair-haired, dressed in a uniform of mostly black with coloured stripes down each arm. Under her outer jacket was a shirt of the same colour, a deep, almost burgundy red. In the background, others wore similar clothing and sat or stood at various stations. The design of what Janeway presumed to be the bridge was sleek, with no sharp edges, and the surfaces that were not covered with consoles or displays shone a metallic pale blue.

"I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager. Why have you attacked my vessel?" Janeway's tone was demanding and hard as she glared at the person who was responsible. Despite the circumstances, she was impressed at her adversary's strong appearance, her refusal to look away as she returned Janeway's expression.

"This is the Federation time ship Enterprise," stated the woman. It was a credit to Janeway that she managed not to show any sign of surprise at this information, though she certainly felt it. Voyager's Captain waited, suppressing her urge to fire more questions at the screen.

"You should not be here, Janeway," spat the woman with such venom that Janeway almost recoiled. "This is not your reality, and I won't let you ruin mine. In this reality, Voyager was home by now. By being here, you are altering our timeline in ways you can't imagine. You may have the larger ship, but mine is more advanced than anything you've ever seen -"

"Oh, I doubt that," interrupted Janeway pleasantly, standing up and smiling. "You're not the first time ship we've come across. I can tell you, Captain…?"

The woman refused to complete Janeway's question and give her name, remaining stony-faced, and Janeway continued as though they were discussing breakfast.

"We've made some improvements. Tell me, do you think you could withstand a high-yield quantum torpedo? Or a Borg-enhanced nanoprobe bioweapon?" Voyager's Captain bluffed easily, so convincingly that some of her own crew were nearly fooled. A flicker of doubt passed across the other woman's face, and she leaned across to converse with someone off the picture.

"Our shields are highly adaptable, Janeway," sneered the Enterprise's Captain. "Voyager is no match for my ship."

The communication was cut abruptly, and Janeway turned to Chakotay. "What do you think?" she asked. The First Officer looked as confused as she felt. He took his time to answer.

"I wonder what she meant when she said we're in the wrong reality," he said, shaking his head. "It doesn't make sense. But I think we ought to get out of here as quickly as we can."

"We can't outrun them, Captain. I scanned their ship with the modified sensors. They are faster and more manoeuvrable than Voyager, and from what I can tell she was telling the truth about being more advanced. My guess is they're working on a plan to blow us up as we speak." Kim's voice was light, but it shook as he spoke.

"The ship does appear to have a Federation signature, Captain," informed Tuvok. "You might also be interested to hear the registration number displayed on their hull."

"Go on," prodded Janeway, although she had an idea she knew what was coming.

"USS Enterprise, registration NCC-1701-R."

As everyone digested this information, an alarm sounded from the science station. Seven-of-Nine quickly crossed to the console and examined the display, her long fingers pressing buttons as she worked. "I'm detecting an anomaly forming two hundred kilometres off our port stern. It appears to be a rift in subspace, but I am reading high levels of chronoton and anti-polaron particles."

Whilst the ex-Borg was speaking, Voyager was buffeted again, though not as violently as during the first attack. Several more alarms sounded, and warning beeps issued from several stations. As Janeway watched, the view on the front screen began to move.

"Captain, we're being pushed towards the rift, some sort of reverse tractor beam," Tom Paris exclaimed. "I don't know if we can get loose."

"Do we have warp drive?" demanded Janeway.

"Yes, Captain but we'd be ripped apart, even if we just used the impulse engines. I'm at full reverse thrusters, but it's not enough."

"Weapons?"

"The beam is disrupting the targeting scanners. Also, it is unlikely that our weapons could penetrate their shields."

"I believe I can free us, Captain." Seven's cool voice penetrated Janeway's whirling thoughts. "However I do not have time to explain. I will need all available power to the main and secondary deflectors."

"Do it," the Captain ordered, her trust in the ex-Borg absolute.

There was a jolt, then another. Voices were raised, informing of hull breaches, warning of imminent damage, and everyone worked frantically at their posts. Without knowing what Seven was doing, it was impossible for Janeway to issue orders, so she sat mutely, ignoring the cacophony around her. Another lurch almost dislodged her from the Captain's chair, then everything was still.

"We are free, Captain, and the time ship has sustained damage to its propulsion and shields."

"Tom, get us out of here, Warp nine."

"Captain," Chakotay said, looking up at Janeway as she left her seat. "We should head for a nebula we passed early this morning. It's class 17, we can hide out there whilst we make repairs and figure out what to do. I doubt they'll just give up, and we need time to think. If we do get into a confrontation, in the nebula the odds may be evened a little."

"Good idea. Tom, set a course for the nebula. Seven," Janeway addressed the young Borg who regarded her enquiringly, "any idea how much damage the Enterprise suffered? How much head start are we likely to have?"

"The damage was relatively minor, Captain, however I was able to introduce a Borg encryption code into their shield matrix and warp control, disguised with a Federation signature to render it almost undetectable. I estimate that it will take approximately 24 hours to rectify, possibly longer, during which time neither their shields nor engines will function."

Janeway looked at her friend with undisguised admiration, her eyes softening as she did so. It seemed that the young woman had come to Voyager's rescue once again, and the Captain felt a rush of gratitude and love towards the ex-Borg. Standing there, her slim yet muscular body sporting an almost-Starfleet uniform, she possessed a self-assurance that was so strong that even Janeway herself couldn't match it. Seven was rock-solid, completely unfazed by any situation. Glancing around, the Captain noticed that all of the bridge crew were also looking at Seven, many with similar expressions of thanks together with curiosity at the blonde's attire. Janeway ignored them all.

"Looks like we have some breathing space. Chakotay, organise a briefing for the senior officers in one hour. I'll be in my ready room."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Part 1**

The briefing room was noisy, full of speculative chatter between Voyager's senior officers. Captain Janeway, the only person standing, rapped on the back of a chair with her knuckles, and the conversation died down. As she often did, Janeway walked slowly around the room as she talked, draping her hand over the tall chair backs as she reached them. The movement was so characteristic of the Captain that no-one noticed when, as she passed Seven-of-Nine's chair, her hand slipped further down and lightly brushed over the tall woman's shoulders and neck. Even as she berated herself for acting like a lovesick teenager, she couldn't stop herself from touching Seven, and the action was almost unconscious. There was no reaction from the ex-Borg, and Janeway moved on.

"Let's start by looking at some of the questions I've been asking myself," she said, pausing her wanderings and leaning on the back of the Doctor's chair. "First of all, is that ship really a Federation time ship?"

Tuvok was the first to answer, having obtained information from his position at the tactical console. "I believe so, Captain. Its shields and weapons have a temporal variance and possess a Federation signature. From the limited scans I was able to run, it appears that the Enterprise's configuration is similar, though not identical, to that of the Aeon, one of the time ships we have previously encountered."

"Also, Captain," Harry Kim spoke confidently, "I was able to perform a partial scan for lifesigns. I couldn't get any numbers, but the scans detected human, Vulcan, Klingon, Bolean and Ferengi lifesigns, among others."

Janeway nodded slowly. "Let's assume, then, that Captain No-Name was telling the truth about that, then -"

"Now that was odd," Tom Paris butted in casually. Janeway shot him a look, but allowed the helmsman to continue. "She obviously didn't want to give her name, even though it's standard protocol. I wonder if she's hiding something, maybe she's on the run, wanted by Starfleet for some reason."

"Well if she was, we couldn't possibly know," pointed out Torres. "It was pretty clear that the ship isn't from the 24th Century."

Chakotay cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him. During discussions about technical issues and tactical planning he usually took a back seat, allowing other skilled officers to use their expertise, but he was intrigued. "What about this 'wrong reality' business she mentioned? _Could_ Voyager have somehow entered an alternate reality? The Enterprise's Captain seemed pretty certain, enough to try to destroy Voyager or push us into that rift."

"Again, we have no way of knowing." Janeway was agitated, and she had begun pacing again. Heads turned to follow her as she moved. "Everything we come across is new to us in the Delta Quadrant. We've no prior knowledge to refer back to, no point of reference to tell us whether things are different to what they should be. Hell, for all we know we could cross into a different reality every week!"

Neelix was the first to answer. "What about backtracking, Captain? If we go back to an area I'm familiar with, I would know whether things were different or not."

Janeway shook her head. "You could be right, but then again, what if the differences between this reality and our own are so small that we can't tell? Or what if we entered the alternate reality when we were first pulled to the Delta Quadrant?"

"You sound as though you're starting to believe that we _have_ moved from our reality to another," noted Chakotay with a curious expression. Janeway paused, leaning this time on Seven-of-Nine's chair and realising that the ex-Borg had yet to speak.

"I don't know what to believe," admitted the Captain with a wry smile. "I mean, is it possible that the Enterprise is in the wrong reality – our reality? What if they're somehow stuck out here like we are, able to move through time but not space, at least not as quickly as the other time ships we've met?"

" 'This is not your reality, and I won't let you ruin mine'," quoted Torres. "I wonder how we're supposedly ruining her reality by pottering around a Delta Quadrant that the Federation haven't explored yet?"

"She said that in her reality, which she thinks is the one we're in, Voyager has reached home by this time. I suppose if we were to turn up in the Alpha Quadrant, and this reality's Voyager had already made it back, things could get a little awkward. Maybe that's what does happen, and our friends on the Enterprise have seen it during one of their jaunts into the future. Past. Whatever." Paris hated temporal physics nearly as much as Janeway did.

The Captain placed her hands lightly on the back of Seven's chair, her fingertips resting against the back of the young woman's shoulders, brushing the light green material of the uniform she had replicated for her friend. Nobody had mentioned Seven's change of attire, though there had been several interested glances, and Janeway was amused. She was sure that as soon as she and Chakotay were alone, he would ask questions.

"This is getting us nowhere," declared Janeway. "There are just too many possibilities, and we don't have enough information. Let's think about what we _can_ do. We're heading for a class 17 nebula – can we enhance the sensors somehow so that they will work in the nebula?"

Seven-of-Nine answered, speaking for the first time during this briefing. She addressed the seated officers without turning to look at Janeway. "I believe that the astrometrics sensors could be modified to give partial functionality in the conditions we will encounter in the nebula. Also, I have given some thought to additional weapons."

"Go on," said Janeway.

"I can modify several photon torpedoes with technology that is used by the Borg in order to construct quantum torpedoes. They will penetrate both regular and temporal shielding of the type used by Federation vessels."

The group of officers sat in stunned silence, surprised not only by Seven's words but by the casual manner in which they were uttered, as though the ex-Borg were proposing a new type of sonic shower. Janeway reached out and squeezed Seven's shoulders briefly yet affectionately, noticed only by Torres, who was still keeping a close eye on the Borg. The Chief Engineer glanced pointedly at Paris, whose questioning look told her that he hadn't seen anything, or if he had then he didn't think it was important.

"Excellent. Has anyone got anything to add?" Heads shook around the table, and Janeway continued. "B'Elanna, Harry, I want you to help Seven with the torpedo modifications, starting at 07:00 hours tomorrow. Once Seven has built one quantum torpedo, you can continue to construct three more whilst Seven gets to work on the Astrometric sensors."

"I forgot, there's one more thing, Captain," Torres said hurriedly. "Seven showed me the Borg encryption code that she used on the Enterprise's systems. I tell you, it would take me and my whole department at least thirty-six hours to figure it out, and we're used to dealing with Borg technology. Unless there's another rescued drone on the Enterprise, I'm betting they'll be a while longer than we thought."

Janeway smiled, looking round at the newly optimistic expressions around the room. "More good news; I could get used to this. Dismissed!"

As the senior officers rose to leave, a gentle pressure on Seven's shoulders kept her in her seat as the others filed out. Most would be going off duty, having worked the day shift and then been called back when Voyager was attacked. Tuvok remained on the bridge, in command of the night shift.

The briefing room doors swished shut, leaving Janeway and Seven alone. The older woman perched on the table in front of the ex-Borg and regarded her with interest, causing Seven to raise an enquiring eyebrow.

"Nice work, Seven," Janeway said softly, reaching out a hand as though to touch her partner but stopping, remembering where she was, and pulling her hand back reluctantly. "How many times will you have to save this ship before we get home, do you think?"

"As many times as is necessary," declared the ex-Borg firmly, making Janeway laugh. The Captain stood up properly, and Seven did the same. They stood close together but not touching, both women conscious that they were on duty and in the briefing room, where anyone could enter at any time. "Shall we go and have dinner?"

"That would be…pleasant, Captain."

**Part 2**

Smiling at her new partner across the dining table, on which Seven had placed breakfast plates, juice, coffee and, bizarrely in Janeway's mind, pieces of cheese, Janeway had something on her mind.

"You know how we talked last night about keeping our relationship from the rest of the crew, Seven?" began Janeway, faltering slightly when the Borg's ice-blue eyes lifted to meet her own. "I've been thinking about that a lot."

"Indeed?" Seven's tone held a polite curiosity, as though she hadn't thought about it in the slightest and didn't quite grasp the significance of Janeway's opening statement. The Captain ploughed on regardless as the younger woman carried on with her breakfast.

"I think that maybe we ought to tell people, Seven. There's no reason to hide what's going on – even a Captain is entitled to a private life. And I'm pretty sure that certain individuals already suspect something -"

"B'Elanna Torres," interjected Seven. Seeing the surprised expression on Janeway's face, the blonde woman explained her statement. "Lieutenant Torres has enquired as to my whereabouts twenty-eight times during the past seventy-two hours, according to the computer logs."

Janeway laughed, spilling a drop of coffee onto the table which she mopped up with her finger. Torres was the hub of the ship's gossip, and one sure-fire way to spread something at warp nine would be to tell the Chief Engineer. "I have an idea," Janeway said slyly. "How about we invite Tom and B'Elanna over for dinner this evening? All the modifications should be finished, we'll be inside the nebula and we're not expecting the Enterprise until tomorrow lunchtime at the earliest."

Seven-of-Nine frowned. "Are you suggesting that we inform Lieutenants Torres and Paris of our personal relationship during dinner?"

"We don't even have to tell them as such. It will be pretty obvious, Seven, from the way we act around each other. Be yourself, act how you normally would when you're having dinner with me. Just don't say anything about our sexual relationship, alright?" Janeway thought that she had better make that clear, for Seven still struggled with her sense of appropriate versus inappropriate topics of conversation. The Captain was getting more used to handling Seven's directness about awkward subjects, becoming less embarrassed and more straightforward during their discussions.

"Agreed. Shall I ask Lieutenant Torres when I see her?" offered the younger woman.

"No," decided Janeway. "Leave that to me. She'd find it very odd, not to mention amusing, if you invited her and Tom to dinner in the Captain's quarters."

The two women finished breakfast and, with a parting kiss, went their separate ways to begin the day's work.

**Part 3**

The Engineering department was a whirl of activity, with various personnel drafted in from all over the ship to help with repairs and modifications. Chakotay broke off from his conversation with Torres and approached Janeway as she entered through the main doors.

"Everything seems to be going to plan, Captain," he said casually, smiling. "Seven's constructed a prototype quantum torpedo and there are teams working on three more. Seven and Harry have gone to astrometrics to work on the sensors, and all of the systems that were damaged in the attack are back online. B'Elanna sent crews to enhance the structural integrity at Voyager's weakest points, and a science team are looking at improving the temporal shields."

"Thank you, Commander," said Janeway, her tone dismissive as she walked towards the main console. Chakotay had other ideas, however, and stood in her way, his expression apologetic as he took his Captain to one side.

"I noticed that Seven is wearing a uniform," he said quietly; not disapprovingly but simply stating an observation. "Is this a permanent change?"

Janeway looked her First Officer directly in the eye. "I don't know, Chakotay. I replicated it for her earlier because there wasn't time for her to change after we were attacked, but if she wants to continue to wear it I don't see that it would be a problem. It's not Starfleet colours, I'm not enlisting her. I think it might help her to fit in, feel more like a part of the crew, don't you agree?"

"I suppose so," said Chakotay slowly. "But I'm worried that some members of the crew might resent it, feel that she hasn't earned the right to wear a uniform, Starfleet colours or not."

"Chakotay, if Maquis crewmembers who didn't graduate from the academy can wear a uniform and be assigned a senior rank -" Janeway waved her arm in the direction of Torres, "and if I can make a former traitor who was in a Federation penal colony my helmsman and a lieutenant to boot, I think the crew can accept Seven wearing a green Starfleet-style uniform, don't you?"

The Commander was laughing now, realising how absurd their situation was. The Starfleet crew and the Maquis were now impossible to tell apart save for the provisional insignia worn by the latter; Tom Paris flew Voyager like he'd been born in a pilot's seat, and B'Elanna Torres was the best engineer on board. Janeway was right, and he admitted it.

"I see your point, Captain. Do you think Seven will want to keep the uniform? The colour certainly suits her."

"I thought so too. I'll speak to her about it later, talk through it. Now, I need to speak to B'Elanna. Where are you heading now?"

"I'll check on the progress with the astrometrics sensors, then see if the science team has come up with anything for the shields. I'll have a report for you at 15:00 hours." Chakotay left Engineering, striding out briskly, and Janeway walked over to where Torres was working at a subsidiary console that ran along one wall.

"Chakotay gave me an update, B'Elanna. It sounds like there are no problems."

The half-Klingon looked up and nodded to the Captain, brushing loose hair from her forehead. She was perspiring and her uniform was smudged and dirty, and Janeway thought she'd never looked happier as she grinned in response to the Captain's words.

"All's well, Captain. I don't have anything else to add to what Chakotay's already told you, so…"

"I won't keep you from your work, then. Oh, I wondered if you and Tom would care to join us for dinner tonight. Don't worry, I won't be doing the cooking."

A look of confusion crossed Torres's face as she spoke hesitantly. "_Us_, Captain?"

"Seven and myself. Say, 19:30 hours?" Janeway was enjoying herself, for it wasn't often that the feisty young woman was shocked and lost for words. Torres, looked around, as if wondering if she were the victim of a bizarre practical joke, but nobody else was paying any attention.

"Ah, yes, of course, Captain. I'm sure it will be fine with Tom, but I'll ask him right away. Er, see you later then…" Torres wandered off, Janeway watching her and smiling as the engineer muttered to herself.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Part 1**

"B'Elanna, will you stop worrying?" Tom Paris sounded exasperated. "It's just dinner, for crying out loud. You're acting like you're going to a court-martial!"

Tom's fiery partner, Voyager's half-Klingon Chief Engineer, spun around, the scowl on her face causing the boyish helmsman to take half a step backwards. Torres jabbed a finger towards Tom's face to punctuate her words. "But _why_, Tom? Why ask _us_? And don't you think it's even a _little_ odd, the Captain inviting you and me to dinner with _her and Seven_?"

"Look, you're the one who's been saying that something's going on between them. Now maybe you'll get to find out," said Paris reasonably. He reached out and put his hands on B'Elanna's shoulders, willing her to stay calm. "Are you ready?"

"I guess so," agreed the Klingon, though she didn't sound convinced. "It's just – what if they are, you know, having a relationship? Won't that feel…weird? Can you honestly say you're okay with that idea?"

"Absolutely, B'Elanna, if it makes them happy. In fact, I think they'd be a good match, don't you? Seven's about the only person on board who will challenge Captain Janeway enough, and the Captain needs someone, you know, different, not Starfleet, someone who can match her intellectually. Why is it any different to you and me having a relationship?"

"Because it's the Captain," snapped Torres, her eyes flashing dangerously as she pushed Tom's arms away and glared at him. "Seven will end up hurting her, I just know it. By god, Tom, if she does…" Wisely the engineer didn't finish her sentence, but the intent was clear.

Probably half the crew felt the same way, and he suspected that Torres would have to wait in line, but Paris was reluctant to agree with the assumption that Seven would treat the Captain badly. He had been one of the first people to say a kind word to Seven-of-Nine, to offer her his help, for he knew how hard it could be to fit in when one felt like an outsider.

"Let's wait and see," suggested Tom, smiling. "Right, shall we go? Have you got the beer?"

"Still think we should take wine," muttered Torres, but following her partner all the same.

**Part 2**

Janeway was running a bit behind, having lost track of time whilst she worked with the science team that was making improvements to the temporal shields. It felt good to be working on a specific task as part of a group, discussing theories and ideas, testing them out, improving them. Only when she noticed a young crewman glance at the time display did she do the same, and cursing inwardly made her apologies and left in a hurry. She had just finished dressing, choosing loose black trousers and a cream tunic that she belted around the middle, when she heard the door beep.

With one final glance in the mirror, the Captain left the bedroom and entered the living room. "Come in," she called, not sure whether it would be Tom and B'Elanna or Seven-of-Nine. Suddenly, a thought crossed her mind that made her take a deep breath. But no, surely not? Seven wouldn't wear anything like the last dress Janeway had seen her in, would she? Or would she think it was fine, since Janeway obviously appreciated it before? These thoughts flashed through her mind as the doors opened, and Paris entered first followed by Torres, who was carrying four bottles in a box.

"Good evening Tom, B'Elanna. I'm glad you could come. Please, let me take those – what's in the bottles?" Janeway played host superbly, smiling and greeting her guests and somehow managing to put them at ease immediately. Tom settled onto the couch, with B'Elanna perching awkwardly next to him on the edge of the seat as Janeway took the bottles over and set them on the counter, taking one out of the box and holding it up for examination.

"It's beer, Captain. Remember when Neelix and I helped out that trader on an away mission a few months ago? Well, he insisted on giving us something in return, but he didn't have anything else we wanted, so..."

"So you got beer," finished Janeway. "I see. Well, I hope it was worth the effort you went to – shall we sample it now?" She expertly removed the tops of three of the bottles and brought them over, handing two of them to the Lieutenants and sitting in her favourite chair. "Cheers!"

"Cheers," repeated Tom and B'Elanna, all three of them taking a good swig. Nobody pulled a face or spat it out, which is always a good sign, and Tom smacked his lips together noisily. "Not bad at all," he remarked, nodding.

Torres agreed, finding the brew flavoursome and delicately bitter. "Ah, Captain? I thought Seven was coming for dinner too?"

Janeway leaned forward, curling her fingers around the top of her bottle and regarding the engineer with interest, a smile pulling at one corner of her mouth. "I'm sure she's on her way, B'Elanna. Perhaps you'd like to ask the computer where she is?"

Torres blushed and had the grace to look ashamed, realising that the Captain knew what she had been up to and silently thanking her for not making more of it. Seeing his partner's expression, Tom jumped in to divert the conversation with a comment about the corridors seeming busier than usual for that time of night, and the three continued to chat as they sipped beer. Janeway glanced at Torres who caught her eye, and the women exchanged grins to the relief of Torres, who relaxed visibly after that.

The beers were almost finished when the door chimed through the laughter, and Janeway stood up somewhat carefully, having the feeling that the beer was quite a bit stronger than she was used to. Even Tom appeared a little glazed as he peered around B'Elanna, who looked and sounded no different to normal – which was to be expected, since Klingons seemed to have a markedly better tolerance to alcohol than humans, a fact they normally made up for by drinking ten times as much.

Seven-of-Nine entered, and Janeway let out a small, relieved breath. The young blonde's outfit was entirely appropriate, modest in fact, leading the Captain to suspect (correctly, as it happens) that Seven had had some help in choosing her attire. She wore simple black jeans, not too tight, a light blue-coloured blouse that matched her eyes and that had long sleeves, elegantly cut and fastened with a pair of plain, silver cufflinks. The ex-Borg was holding a PADD, which she placed on the counter, raising her eyebrows at the single remaining bottle. As she walked over to the seating area, Janeway moved towards her.

"Good evening, Seven," greeted the older woman, holding out her arms and gently embracing her new partner, standing on tiptoes in order to place a light, brief kiss on Seven's lips. Janeway could feel her heart pounding, conscious that they were being watched but determined to start as she meant to go on. In that few seconds, she had practically announced to the entire ship that she and Seven-of-Nine had become lovers.

"Thank you for inviting me," said Seven, taking in with a glance the seated B'Elanna who appeared nothing less than speechless, and Tom Paris who was grinning ear-to-ear. "Good evening Lieutenant Torres, Lieutenant Paris. I am pleased that you could join the Captain and myself for dinner." These were the precise words that the Doctor had suggested, and by the proud look on Janeway's face it was exactly the right thing to say. Nobody, however, seemed to know what to say next until Tom broke the silence.

"Hey, Seven, I brought a beer for us all. Yours is over there – want me to get it for you?" His face was earnest, and the Borg nodded her head in response, taking a seat in the unoccupied chair and ignoring Torres's open-mouthed expression of shock. Janeway sat too, her chair close enough to her partner's to reach out and rest a hand on the younger woman's arm, squeezing tenderly.

Slowly, the chatter resumed, Seven joining in as required, though she would have been content to simply listen. It was actually Janeway who remained quiet, her mind wandering as she watched her dining companions closely. She realised that, although Torres and Seven had managed to settle their major differences and had been able to work together for a while without mishap, the half-Klingon was finding the situation hard. Everything about her – her expression, her words and the sting in their tone when she addressed the ex-Borg, even her posture – conveyed her disapproval, no matter how hard she was trying, and Janeway could see that she was trying very hard indeed.

The Captain cleared her throat, and three faces turned to her expectantly, for it was the first time she had spoken since Seven had entered. "Seven, Tom, I forgot – Neelix is saving a bottle of wine for me, I meant to pick it up after my shift ended but I got sidetracked. Could the two of you go down to the mess hall and fetch it for me?"

Tom met his Captain's eyes, an unspoken understanding passing between them, and he sprang to his feet. "No problem, Captain. Come on, Seven – maybe we could drop into astrometrics too and you can show me the improved sensors?" As he spoke, Paris steered the young woman towards the door, and they were gone within seconds.

Torres shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Janeway placed her drink deliberately on the table in front of her and leaned forward, resting her chin in her cupped hands. The Chief Engineer knew exactly what Janeway's intention was, and so didn't need to wait for her to ask the question.

"I'm sorry, Captain. I – it will just take a while to get used to, I guess. It's just, well…why her, Captain? She's not the easiest person to get along with, and she's caused more than her share of trouble. I'd just hate to see you get hurt, that's all. I know I'm probably speaking out of place, but…" Torres's words faded away, and she stared down at the floor, waiting despondently for the tongue-lashing she knew was imminent. She was unprepared for the Captain's gentle response.

"B'Elanna," said Janeway softly, repeating the engineer's name when there was no reply. Torres lifted her head then, a slight frown creasing her ridged forehead. "I can see what you're feeling; it's pretty obvious. And I understand. I _understand_, B'Elanna. The fact that you care enough to say what you just said makes me proud of who you have become, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. But you need to hear this." The Captain's grey-blue eyes shone with nascent tears as she fixed her gaze on Torres.

"I trust Seven, totally and without reservation. If either of us gets hurt, it will be just one of those things that can happen in a relationship, nothing more. She has changed, and I think you know that. A relationship has to be built on firm foundations; otherwise it will simply crumble away into dust. I love Seven, B'Elanna. _That_ is the foundation, and they don't come any stronger. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

Torres nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. Janeway was a powerful speaker, and her words came from her heart. Despite her observations, it was only now that the Klingon realised how deeply the two women cared for each other. "I think so, Captain. May I say something? It's kind of personal."

Janeway spread her arms in a gesture of surrender. "After some of the questions Seven has asked, believe me, your observations will be a doddle to handle!"

"I've noticed the way you look at her, and touch her when you think no-one can see, like in the briefing this morning. Your voice changes too when you speak to her, it gets sort of softer. But I've never seen any sign of Seven doing the same things towards you. Does she love you, Captain?"

The question was simple in its brevity, but the ideas behind it were anything but. Torres had voiced the fears and worries that Janeway herself had been struggling with since the first time she and Seven had made love, and a sliver of anxiety shot through the Captain as the doubts returned. Though she tried not to show it, B'Elanna had touched a nerve.

"I…think so. Here, in my quarters, when we're alone, I have no doubt. Out there -" Janeway waved her hand towards the doors "there's no sign of it at all. Perhaps she can just control her emotions better than most people, and she certainly has a strong sense of right and wrong, and rules of behaviour – so she should given the number of times we've spoken about them in the past."

The engineer smiled at this, knowing that Janeway was referring to the countless times Seven had broken rules of conduct aboard Voyager. "She's presumably never been in a relationship before – that's got to take some getting used to," suggested Torres. "This evening should be a good indicator of how Seven feels – it's a private dinner, but with Tom and I as guests, so kind of a mixture. I hope things work out for you, Captain." Despite her lingering misgivings regarding the ex-Borg, Torres was sincere.

"So do I, B'Elanna." Janeway smiled, and it occurred to B'Elanna that she had never seen the Captain so relaxed. She was speaking to Torres so casually, comfortably even, and when B'Elanna was to remember this conversation on many occasions in the future, she would think of it as the point when she and Janeway became friends.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Part 1**

Seven-of-Nine and Tom Paris ambled along a dimly-lit corridor, the lighting having switched to night mode. At every junction a brightly-lit panel illuminated the immediate area, like the old street lamps back on Earth casting out puddles of soft orange to guide wandering souls through the night. There were so many questions that the young man wanted to ask of the tall woman who walked beside him so gracefully, yet she seemed so lost in her own thoughts that Tom was reluctant to intrude. But the silence grew until his words came out of their own accord.

"I guess the Captain wanted to talk to B'Elanna," he began, looking sidelong at Seven. "She'll get used to it, you know. Actually, I think she's gotten quite fond of you, in her own way. She's very protective of Captain Janeway, that's all."

They walked on, not rushing, and as the corridors were mostly empty their conversation was unlikely to be overheard or disturbed. The ex-Borg didn't reply straight away, unsure whether she should answer at all. Janeway had impressed upon her that their relationship was private, and Seven didn't intend to say anything that would go against that. But she wanted to talk about it, and here was someone who seemed willing to listen. Though they had not worked together a great deal, Tom had always been kind to her. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and melodic.

"I am aware that Lieutenant Torres has been…interested in my relationship with Captain Janeway. I hold no ill feelings towards her – she is an excellent engineer and a fine officer, though frequently lacking in patience and tact. No doubt she feels that I will in some way cause the Captain pain."

At this, the blonde woman stopped, turning to face Paris across the corridor. Seven's eyes met Tom's, bright and unblinking, as she continued in a slow, deliberate manner. "I will _never_ deliberately hurt the Captain, Lieutenant. I…love her. I didn't know what that meant until she rescued me from the Borg, cared for me, helped me, taught me what it means to be human again. I – I love her so much, it frightens me," she admitted in a choked whisper.

Tom, seeing a friend in distress, reached out and hugged her gently, just for a second, before letting go and stepping back. The gesture was well-meant, but as the ex-Borg was not known for tolerating physical contact he took a step back before finding his voice once again. "It can be frightening, Seven, especially when you've never felt this way before. Do you want to talk about it, tell me what's worrying you? Maybe I could help?"

He was surprised, to say the least, when Seven nodded. "Okay then, let's find somewhere a little more private, shall we?" Tom led the way. They had just visited Astrometrics and were on their way to the turbolift, and it was a short detour to Cargo Bay 2, where Seven had spent most of her off-duty hours until recently. They entered, the door closing behind them, and Paris seated himself on a handy crate, Seven as usual preferring to stand.

"Alright, Seven, hit me." After using the phrase, Tom realised that perhaps it wasn't the best choice of words. Fearing for his health, he quickly amended the statement. "I mean, talk to me. I promise this will go no further; I won't even tell B'Elanna if you don't want me to." He meant it.

"Thank you, Lieutenant -"

"You can call me Tom, you know," Paris said matter-of-factly. "You're a department head, hell, if you were Starfleet you'd be a Lieutenant at least."

The Borg inclined her head graciously. "Thank you…Tom. This is…difficult for me to talk about, but I feel in need of advice. I am wondering if the Captain's feelings towards me are the same as my feelings for her. Humans often have short-term relationships based on common interests, or convenience, or sexual attraction. I am unsure whether she intends for our relationship to be a lasting one."

"And what do _you_ want, Seven?" Tom questioned gently.

"I have cared about the Captain for a long time, and I do not believe that will change. I wish our union to be permanent."

Shaking his head slowly, Paris leaned backwards, resting on outstretched arms. "It normally takes a while to know if something, or someone, is right for you, Seven. You've only been seeing the Captain for a matter of days. There's so much that you have to learn about each other in order to be sure, really sure. It's gonna be tough – it was hard enough for me and B'Elanna, but you're dating the Captain, and the Captain's dating an ex-Borg. My advice is take things slowly, build up your experiences together little by little, and talk about everything with her. Don't keep your feelings to yourself, and try to keep your personal life separate from work. Am I making sense?"

"That is a lot to consider…Tom. Your suggestions appear to have merit; I will consider them. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Seven. Let's go get that wine, or the Captain and B'Elanna will probably send a security team after us!"

**Part 2**

The Mess Hall was nearly empty, and Chakotay sat alone at a corner table, working his way through a meat pie that was reasonably edible. He had just mopped up the last of the gravy when the doors opened and admitted Seven and Paris, the latter laughing as they crossed to the serving counter. Voyager's First Officer watched as Paris exchanged a few words with Neelix, the ship's chef, who then disappeared from view. When he returned, a bottle was passed to Seven-of-Nine, and more conversation ensued.

The ex-Borg and the helmsman weren't in uniform, noted Chakotay, and he immediately guessed correctly that the two were having dinner, presumably with their partners Captain Janeway and B'Elanna Torres. Suddenly, the Commander felt a flutter of loneliness as he watched the two leave, chatting like old friends. The feeling grew into suppressed anger, for he knew that things had changed. His close friendship with the Captain had been superseded by something more powerful, and it hurt. But Chakotay was not a jealous man, nor did he suppose to hold the Captain's affections uniquely, and he rose from the table with a sense of righteous purpose.

"Neelix," he called to the Talaxian, whose head popped up above the counter. "You have a bottle of Talaxian brandy in storage?" It wasn't really a question, for Chakotay had made it his business to find out exactly what was being brought aboard Voyager, authorised or otherwise.

The furry man spread his fingers wide with an expression of guilty acknowledgement. "I do, Commander. Actually, I have, ah, more than one…"

"I want one, Neelix. Tell you what; I'll make you a deal. Let me have one of the bottles now, and I won't tell the Captain where they came from, alright?"

Whiskers twitching as he pondered Chakotay's words, Neelix eventually decided that it was worth surrendering a bottle to avoid what could be an awkward conversation in the future. He rummaged around in a deep cupboard that was hidden behind various cooking implements and a vegetable rack and came up waving a dark-coloured bottle triumphantly.

"Now, Commander, this is the finest spirit that has ever been produced on Talaxia. We're not well known for our liquors," he added regretfully, as though it were somehow his fault. "I recommend a dash of lemon juice and no more than one piece of ice, and it should be served in a bell-shaped glass that -"

"Thanks, Neelix. And next time you want to bring…unusual goods aboard, check with me first."

"Aye, Commander," replied Neelix smartly, causing Chakotay to smile despite his pretence. He had benefited more than most from the Talaxian's dealings, with the exception of Captain Janeway herself, to whom the First Officer had passed a selection of goodies including spirits, wine, luxury foods and the odd rare item he thought she would appreciate.

The First Officer diverted to his quarters on the way back to the bridge. He had planned to drop off the brandy in person to Janeway and her guests, but when he reached the doors he could hear laughter and music, and didn't want to interrupt. In truth, he felt like an outsider. Forcing down the negative feelings once more, he retreated to his own rooms and placed the bottle on a table, sitting and staring at it for a minute before making his mind up. The large man detached his comm badge from his uniform and leaned it against the bottle.

"Computer, site to site transport."

_Specify object to be transported_

"A bottle of brandy that is located next to my comm badge."

_Object identified. Specify destination_

"Beam it to the replicator in the Captain's quarters."

_Acknowledged_

"Energise."

The bottle disappeared, and for a moment Chakotay wondered whether he should have sent a note along with it. After considering the thought, he decided that Janeway would know who it was from, as the only other possibility – Neelix – would never, ever send contraband goods directly to the Captain. Smiling as he pictured Janeway's face when she picked up the beautifully-designed bottle, Chakotay went back to work.

**Part 3**

The dinner that Seven-of-Nine had programmed had been a success, and four satisfied bodies sank into seats around Janeway's low coffee table. Paris groaned a little as he folded in two, having eaten three helpings of the delicious and filling beef casserole, prompting a disapproving look from his girlfriend. Janeway looked over at Seven, who had said little during dinner and eaten even less, worrying the Captain more than a little.

"So, this Enterprise business," began Paris, who could always be relied upon to start a conversation, "what's it all about, huh? Are they really from the future?"

"All the evidence would suggest so, Tom," answered Seven. Two sets of eyes opened wider at the use of the helmsman's name, and Paris was quick to intercede.

"I asked Seven to call me Tom, Captain, when we're off duty."

Janeway smiled, and after a long delay Torres followed suit. "That's fine, Tom. Carry on," encouraged the Captain.

"So anyway, I was wondering – is it really an 'Enterprise', you know, one of the long line of Enterprises since the first sailing boat?"

"As Seven said," B'Elanna replied, nodding to the ex-Borg in acknowledgement, "everything points that way at the moment. You know, it's odd – everything about this is odd. Why would they fire on us, even if we _are_ supposedly from a different reality? They're still Federation, right?"

"It sounded personal to me. Like she knew that Voyager was somehow going to damage her life by being here. If you ask me, they're not on any authorised mission." Tom was speculating, given the limited amount of information they had to go on, but Janeway had to agree.

"We'll find out, no doubt. But I think you're right, Tom – I doubt Starfleet had a hand in this. Last time a time ship tried to destroy us, it was because Captain Braxton was mentally ill. I think that these time ships work on the same principles that we do, but sometimes it goes wrong."

Seven-of-Nine started to speak, but was cut off by the hum of the replicator. Curious glances were exchanged around the table before Janeway stood and crossed the room. An ornate bottle had appeared, filled with a dark-coloured liquid.

"It seems as though someone has sent us a gift," remarked the Captain, uncorking the top with an old-fashioned implement she extracted from one of the drawers. "There's no note saying who it's from. It doesn't even say what it is." She sniffed the top, then coughed as the potent vapours reached her lungs.

Paris approached eagerly, and Janeway wasted no time in passing the bottle to him, turning instead to retrieve four glasses from a cupboard. The young Lieutenant poured a generous measure of the treacle-coloured liquid into each glass, and together he and Janeway carried them over.

**Part 4**

"Chakotay to Janeway."

The communication caught the Captain by surprise, and hastily she choked back her laughter. "Janeway here."

"Captain, Astrometrics has detected the Enterprise on long-range sensors. It seems like they've somehow got a jump on us. They will reach us in approximately sixteen hours."

"That puts us on about lunchtime tomorrow. When will we enter the nebula?"

"Within the hour, Captain. All modifications are complete, and we will have forty percent sensors inside the nebula thanks to Seven's work. Everything's ready, Captain. Enjoy your evening, Chakotay out."

Tom looked confused when Janeway faced her guests once more, and the Captain took pity on her temporally-challenged officer. "What's wrong, Tom?"

"Well, I was just thinking – it's a time ship, right?"

Nods came from all around the table.

"So – why don't they just jump back to last week and wipe us out before we even knew they were here?"

There followed an awkward silence as Janeway, Torres and Seven contemplated Tom's logic. Obviously the time ship didn't do such a thing, or they wouldn't be sitting there and talking about it, but the question was a valid one, and Janeway was stumped. Seven-of-Nine came to the rescue, unsurprisingly for she had previously been employed by the Captain of the time ship _Relativity_.

"It is dangerous for humans to make more than a few jumps through time. As the Captain of the Enterprise has brought her entire ship into this time frame, it follows that another time jump is required to take them back to their own time. That is dangerous enough, and to attempt further jumps, when they are already in our time frame, would be unwise. They possess superior technology; they have no need of a 'temporal ambush'."

Seven was right, yet the discussion continued. Hours later, Janeway finally ushered her dinner guests out of the door. She leaned against the wall, unsteady from the alcohol she had consumed, for it turned out that the brandy was, despite its disagreeable odour, extremely palatable.

**Author's Note**

Thank you for reading this far. Things are about to get interesting with regard to the Enterprise. Stay tuned!

Sam.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

**Part 1**

A strong, hot coffee made with the grounds that Neelix had given her had effectively countered the effects of the wine, beer and brandy that Janeway had consumed. She hadn't drunk much of either, but the combination was definitely not one she would care to repeat. Seven-of-Nine had declined the wine and brandy, and her bottle of beer was still half-full. The Borg sat opposite Janeway, watching the Captain drain the last dregs of the potent, black liquid from her mug. The older woman grinned ruefully.

"Thanks, Seven, I needed that. Neelix was right, it was delicious and seems to have the same effect as real coffee." Though no longer intoxicated, Janeway's senses buzzed and her energy level was heightened, and she caught her partner's eye and smiled slyly. "You know, I'm really not tired enough to sleep yet. But I _can_ think of something else I'd like to do in bed."

Seven merely raised an eyebrow in response, and Janeway's grin widened. Neither of them spoke again for a while as their eyes met and the tension grew. The Captain could feel herself getting warmer as a flush of desire filled her, and her heart began to beat faster as her gaze feasted on the younger woman's body. Her breaths coming faster, she could stand it no longer.

"Are you coming, Seven?" Janeway said hoarsely, rising from the chair and making her way towards the bedroom. The sound of footsteps behind her increased her arousal, but she wanted to take things more slowly this time and give her inexperienced partner as much pleasure as she could before satisfying her own desires. She felt long arms snake around her waist and light kisses brush her neck, and almost groaned with delight.

Seven's hands moved to the belt Janeway wore, unfastening it deftly and allowing it to fall to the floor. Now, the hands slipped under the Captain's tunic, sliding it slowly upwards and over her head. Janeway trembled as her bra was removed, leaving her naked from the waist up. Still standing behind her, the younger woman's fingertips stroked over Janeway's skin, exploring and caressing, the tingling sensation causing the hairs to stand on end down Janeway's arms. Playful fingers found her breasts, gently squeezing and flicking the hardened nipples, and a thrill ran down her spine. The Captain enjoyed the sensation for a few minutes before stopping Seven and turning to face her, kissing the tall woman on the lips.

"Now you," murmured Janeway, kissing the ex-Borg again whilst unbuttoning her blouse, pushing it off the long arms before reaching around to unfasten Seven's bra, revealing the large, sensuous breasts. Janeway bent immediately, taking one of the nipples in her mouth and stroking across it with her tongue before nipping it gently, making the ex-Borg gasp. After giving the other the same treatment, the Captain unfastened Seven's jeans and, along with her underwear, slipped them down to the taller woman's ankles. Seven stepped out of them, her stunning figure revealed to Janeway, who took a moment to admire the womanly curves, slender waist and pale, smooth skin.

Realising that she still wore her own trousers, Janeway hastily undressed fully, and the two women stood facing each other. Without a word, they embraced, the full length of their bodies touching, and kissed again, more deeply than ever before. Janeway thought her legs might give way, so intense was the passion she felt for her lover. As the kiss broke off, the Captain's grey-blue eyes met Seven's. It was one of those moments that would never be forgotten as long as Janeway lived.

"I love you," Janeway whispered, her eyes brimming with tears. Seven kissed her cheek lightly before replying, lips pressed against Janeway's ear. "I love you, as well, Captain."

Janeway sank down onto her bed, pulling the blonde down next to her and once again finding Seven's breasts with her mouth, licking and sucking until the young woman moaned softly with pleasure. The Captain's roaming hands brushed over the flat stomach and downwards, her fingers tangling in the triangle of blonde hair. Remaining passive, Seven murmured with desire, and Janeway's hand mover lower still, finding a warm moisture that signalled the younger woman's arousal.

With two fingers, she stroked the sensitive nub with a circular rhythm, her touch light and slow, and Seven cried out, wanting more. Janeway's other hand caressed the Borg's inner thigh, moving closer to the wet folds and stopping when she reached the junction. Delicately, she pressed a finger against the opening, slipping the very tip just inside her lover, and paused. The young woman made no move to stop her and so, carefully, she entered deeper, eliciting further gasps from Seven. The silky walls pressed against the Captain's finger as she slowly slid backwards and forwards, curling the tip upwards so that it brushed against the most sensitive area.

Seven moaned again, louder and more urgently as Janeway worked both hands together in a concerted rhythm, watching the young woman's face contort as her climax approached. Janeway continued steadily as Seven's body jerked suddenly, a gush of warm wetness flowing onto the Captain's hand. Juddering uncontrollably and crying out at the release, the ex-Borg reached her peak as Janeway watched her lover experience the intense pleasure that she was providing. As Seven relaxed, the Captain withdrew her finger and, kissing her way up Seven's body, hugged the younger woman tightly.

Returning the hug, Seven kissed her Captain on the lips, and it was returned hungrily. The Borg manoeuvred Janeway gently so that she lay on her back, then pushed herself up into a kneeling position, looking down at the compact figure with undisguised admiration. Seven bent over and planted a line of kisses down the older woman's neck, continuing on down one perfectly-proportioned breast to the hard, prominent nipple, where she lingered, her tongue tracing small circles around the sensitive area.

The younger woman couldn't get enough of Janeway's body, and her hands roamed freely, touching Janeway experimentally as if to gauge her reaction. Seven's lips wandered also, kissing, licking, nibbling their way across the scarred skin, evidence of the Captain's less pleasant experiences. One hand moved between Janeway's legs, playfully teasing the sensitive ridge that was slick with moisture. The older woman murmured words of encouragement, urging her partner to touch her there, moving against Seven's fingers. The ex-Borg slowly ran her other hand up Janeway's thigh and, as Janeway had done, tentatively pushed a questing finger between the glistening folds.

Immediately the Captain reacted, reaching down with her own hand and gently pushing Seven's away, snapping her legs together. When Seven stopped altogether and removed her hands from Janeway's body, the older woman opened her eyes to see Seven staring at her with a curious frown.

"No, Seven. Not yet," whispered Janeway.

The pale face bore an expression of confusion and hurt, and Janeway felt like crying herself. Seven would not understand, of course, and it would seem like Janeway was the biggest hypocrite in the quadrant. She sat up, holding her arms out to the blonde, who didn't respond but sat back on her heels, unmoving.

"I do not understand, Captain," stated Seven simply, and Janeway's face crumpled, the tears spilling out now as she wanted desperately for the young woman to just hold her. "Why will you not allow me to touch you as you touched me?"

"I – let's talk about this later," choked Janeway, barely able to speak between the sobs that tore from her lungs. "Please, Seven. Please." The last plea was accompanied by outstretched arms whilst tears rolled down the Captain's cheeks and dripped onto her bare breasts, leaving a warm and salty trail.

Though obviously upset, and far from understanding what had happened, Seven finally relented, wrapping her arms around Janeway's waist and feeling the Captain's around her neck, clutching her tightly. The older woman shook as she wept on, her head buried against the ex-Borg's neck and shoulder. Seven lowered Janeway carefully to the bed, turning the shorter woman onto her side. The Borg moved as close as she could, tucking up behind her Captain and enfolding her in her arms. Seven kissed Janeway's neck tenderly, and she put aside her own feelings of hurt and rejection to comfort the woman she loved.

**Part 2**

Janeway awoke early, and was thankful that her partner was still sleeping. Extricating herself carefully, she made for the bathroom and was clean and dressed in record time. The antique clock in the living room showed the time to be 05:48 when she left her quarters, unable to face Seven and therefore taking the coward's way out, something the strong-willed, courageous woman never thought she would do.

The night shift was winding up, its crew weary, but when Janeway walked onto the bridge she was greeted brightly by Harry Kim, who had also risen early that morning. Nodding in return, the Captain didn't linger on the bridge, instead crossing to her ready room where coffee awaited. There were reports to read, and she skimmed them without any real interest. The whole ship was in a state of limbo, just waiting for the mysterious Enterprise to enter the theatre once again. Everything that could be done in preparation had been done, then checked, then checked again. Now, it was a waiting game.

Standing, Janeway paced around the room, touching the plants that were dotted around in tasteful pots, drinking more coffee and shunning food. She contemplated ordering the crew to perform battle drills, but decided against it. The real thing would be upon them soon enough and there was no sense in wearing them out. The Captain sat again and looked out through the window. Normally, the view would either be that of a starry expanse, or the blue blur of Voyager's warp field, but here, deep within the nebula, swirls of gases reflected light across the spectrum, giving rise to greens, reds, purples and oranges. Here, a ship was usually blind, relying on wits and skill alone. But not Voyager, thanks to Seven-of-Nine's Borg knowledge and innate ingenuity.

Her mind was back on Seven, Janeway realised, and instantly her spirits lowered. She didn't know how to make things right, how to explain why she reacted the way she did when Seven had done nothing wrong. Some time, she would have to, but not today, and therefore she didn't even want to think about it. The ex-Borg would no doubt behave professionally when she came on duty, and Janeway would do the same, their private pain pushed aside or buried. Later, assuming they survived whatever the Enterprise was no doubt cooking up, she would have to talk to Seven, would have to decide whether the mantle of dishonesty was preferable to exposing a painful truth she had kept hidden for so long.

Janeway realised she was close to tears once again, which was simply unthinkable as a crisis loomed, in the form of the Enterprise and her nameless Captain. "Computer, locate Commander Chakotay," ordered Janeway, on the slight chance that her friend and First Officer was not still sleeping.

_Commander Chakotay is in his quarters_

"Locate Lieutenant Torres."

_Lieutenant Torres is in her quarters_

Janeway blew out a snort of frustration, knowing that she couldn't wake her officers simply because she was bored and miserable. "Locate Lieutenant Paris."

_Lieutenant Paris is in the main Shuttle Bay_

Janeway jumped to her feet, swallowing the remaining coffee from her mug and thrusting it back into the replicator before hurrying out of her ready room.

**Part 3**

Whilst Janeway spoke with Paris, who had not been able to sleep and was checking the shuttles in case they were needed, Seven-of-Nine was in sick bay. She had been so angry and upset that the Doctor had been forced to give her a mild sedative to calm her down, and only now was he hearing about what had happened. After listening to the Borg's detailed yet impersonal account, he was unable to offer anything more than comforting words and the suggestion that, once the situation with the Enterprise had been resolved, Janeway would surely talk it over with her.

Everyone was taken by surprise when, at 07:36 hours, a call came over the comm system, Harry Kim's voice bearing a note of panic.

"Bridge to senior officers. The Enterprise is entering the nebula. Red alert."

Janeway broke off mid-sentence from her conversation with Tom Paris, and they both ran for the nearest turbolift, the Captain tapping her badge as she went. "All hands, this is the Captain. Red alert, battle stations. Repeat, battle stations!"

"How in hell did they get here so fast," puffed Tom as he jogged alongside Janeway, who shook her head in reply.

"Doesn't matter now. All that matters is that they're here, and we have to deal with it." The Captain's determination was evident in every word she uttered, her confidence in her ship and crew lending strength to her voice.

They exited the turbolift, followed shortly by Chakotay and Tuvok. Everyone settled into their familiar places, ready for whatever was coming.

**Part 4**

"Captain, I have the Enterprise on sensors. She's heading right for us; it looks like their sensors aren't totally useless." Harry Kim was nervous, but he had proved himself on more than one occasion and Janeway was sure that he would come through this admirably.

"Hail them."

"They're responding, Captain. I'm putting them on screen…now."

The Captain of the Enterprise appeared once again, and she did not look happy, which rather irritated Janeway since it was the Enterprise that had attacked first, without warning or explanation.

"We meet again, Captain…?" The opening was corny from Janeway, but it served its purpose. The other woman's nostrils flared with anger at Janeway's mild tone.

"Captain Kathryn Paris of the Time Ship Enterprise," she snarled, not noticing when the Voyager officers exchanged several long looks across their bridge. "You may think you are clever, hiding in this nebula, but you will not escape again. I have 29th century sensors and weapons at my disposal, Janeway. Goodbye, _Captain_."

As the image disappeared and was replaced by a view of dense clouds of nebular gases, a blast rocked the ship violently. Though the shields prevented hull damage this time, they were severely weakened.

"Evasive manoeuvres!" shouted Janeway, gripping her chair arm so tightly that her knuckles were white. "Can we get a weapons lock?"

"Negative, Captain."

Another hit threw Janeway from her chair, and as she lay sprawled on the floor she heard words that chilled her to the bone.

"I'm reading a hull breach, Deck 8, Astrometrics. Emergency force fields are holding but sensors are showing high levels of radiation." Harry's voice cracked as he watched Janeway pick herself up from the deck.

Chakotay responded first, shooting a worried glance at the Captain. "Evacuate Deck 8, seal it off. Have a rescue crew equipped and sent to that section, immediately."

"Aye, Sir."

Janeway walked away from her chair towards the turbolift, ignoring or not hearing her First Officer's words as she disappeared from sight, not noticing as he leapt from his chair and attempted to reach her before she left the bridge. She had one thought, and one thought only. Seven-of-Nine was in Astrometrics, and Janeway had to reach her. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, though in reality it took Janeway less than thirty seconds to reach Deck 8, overriding the security force field and finally using the manual release to open the doors to the Astrometrics lab, again ordering the computer to override the emergency force fields to allow her to enter, disregarding its warnings of dangerous radiation levels in her single-minded effort to reach her lover. What she saw was utter devastation.

Bulkheads were collapsed, torn apart by the force of whatever weapon had been used. Consoles were blown to pieces, damaged beyond repair. The huge display screen was gone entirely, a jagged gash in the hull gaping in its place, sealed by a force field. Ruptured conduits spilled their noxious contents into the room, and already Janeway was finding it difficult to breathe. She moved deeper into the wreckage, her eyes and exposed skin stinging as she searched. Coughing, her lungs burning, she vomited twice onto the deck, but still she continued relentlessly. Finally, she noticed a flash of light green protruding from underneath a fallen bulkhead.

As Janeway drew nearer, peering through the smoke and dust, she could make out a head, surrounded by a cascade of blonde hair that was now dirty and tangled. Staggering against a wall that was miraculously still standing, the rapidly weakening Janeway was sick once more, her stomach heaving. Drawing breath was now an agonising chore, and as she knelt by Seven's unmoving form, Janeway knew that she had little time remaining.

"Seven," she gasped, somehow managing to speak. "Seven!" It was an anguished cry as the Captain sank to the floor, her head falling onto the chest of her dying lover. The last thing Janeway felt was the warmth of the young, strong body against her cheek, as both women took their final breaths. They died together, their limbs intertwined in death as they had been in life.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**Part 1**

Though he desperately wanted to go after Captain Janeway, Chakotay knew that he could not leave the bridge with neither a Captain nor a First Officer whilst Voyager was under attack. Security teams had been dispatched to intercept the Captain, though it was unlikely they could stop her before she reached Deck 8, thus the Commander had ordered a rescue team to that deck, where a portion of the hull had been vaporised and two sections torn apart, causing a massive radiation leak. Voyager's First Officer tried to put Janeway's reckless actions out of his mind and concentrate on the danger that threatened to destroy them all.

The time ship Enterprise, its Captain convinced in her belief that Voyager was misplaced, intruding upon an alternate dimension in which they didn't belong, was again arming weapons. Having obviously made improvements to their 29th Century torpedoes that now ripped through Voyager's temporal shielding as though it were toilet paper, Chakotay felt not so much a sitting duck as one that was plucked, drawn, marinated and waiting for the oven to get up to temperature.

"Commander, our targeting sensors are back online. I have a lock on the Enterprise."

"Fire photon torpedoes, full spread," the bear-like man ordered, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen – a pointless exercise for there was nothing to view but the dense nebular gases that surrounded the ship. As he watched the torpedoes disappear into the clouds, a call came over the comm system that ripped through the hearts of the entire bridge crew.

"Lieutenant Raynes to Commander Chakotay." Raynes was a repair and maintenance specialist and was in charge of the rescue crew that had bravely entered the radiation-flooded sections of Deck 8. "I'm sorry, Sir." The man's tone faltered, and he had to pause briefly to compose himself.

"Report, Lieutenant!" barked Chakotay, whilst Tuvok at the tactical station informed him that the photon torpedoes were on target but had no effect, and that the Enterprise was coming around on what would no doubt be a final, deadly pass.

"I – I'm sorry," Raynes repeated. "The Captain and Seven-of-Nine are dead. We've retrieved their bodies and sealed the leaks. The radiation has been vented and the force field is holding."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I know you did your best."

For a moment there was silence, as though nobody could bring themselves to believe that Captain Janeway, who had led them through some of the most dangerous situations a starship could encounter, had surrendered her life so readily in a futile attempt to save the ex-Borg. But it was only for a moment, for now was a time to think about the living, not to mourn the dead.

"Those bastards," muttered Tom Paris from the helm. "Let's give 'em hell, Chakotay."

The new Captain's expression was stony, his eyes like hard flint. All of his natural compassion, his belief in killing only as a last resort (which may well apply to this situation anyway, he decided), the tradition of peaceful existence passed down through his native American tribal people – all of it was pushed aside by a cold fury. These people had killed his Captain, his friend, and they were going to pay.

"Arm two quantum torpedoes. Target their weapons and propulsion. Fire." The order was given so calmly, yet assuming the weapons reached their target everyone knew that, far from simply disabling the Enterprise's propulsion and weapons, they would tear the ship apart and leave no-one alive. And not one person aboard Voyager would give a damn.

Several excruciating seconds dragged by. Some pairs of eyes focused on the screen, others preferring to trust sensor readings on their consoles. Wherever one was looking, the blinding flash of a massive explosion could not be missed, the Enterprise's warp core detonating as the quantum torpedoes found their mark. A quick-thinking Paris managed to engage Voyager's warp engines, keeping the ship just ahead of the giant shockwave that was mercifully slowed by the clouds of the nebula, and flying Voyager to safety.

"Gotcha," said Paris softly, with emotion that was felt throughout the ship as crewmembers shared news of Captain Janeway's needless death, and the triumphant victory over the Enterprise.

Tuvok, the steadfast Vulcan tactical officer, spoke, his voice absolutely flat. "Captain Chakotay. Shall I organise a briefing for the senior officers?"

Chakotay could barely speak. He had lost his friend, his most trusted Captain. Then, in an act of calculated revenge, he had given an order that took the lives of dozens. Managing a semblance of a nod, he rose, staggering to the ready room doors and shutting himself away from everything. The big, strong man collapsed on a soft chair, which smelled of Kathryn Janeway's perfume, and wept like a child.

**Part 2**

It seemed like hours later, but little more than fifteen minutes had passed when Tuvok's voice sounded through the comm system, cutting through Chakotay's grief with an urgent tone that was so unusual for the Vulcan that it got the Captain's attention.

"Captain, a temporal rift is opening thirty thousand kilometres off our port bow. Sensors have detected a ship emerging from the rift."

"The Enterprise?" asked Chakotay tensely. It was not beyond the realms of possibility that the Enterprise could have somehow tried again, being a 29th Century time ship which as Voyager had found out were notoriously hard to shake off.

"Negative, Captain. Scans indicate that it is the time ship Relativity."

Chakotay sprang from his chair and ran out onto the bridge, ordering Harry Kim to hail the approaching ship.

"They are responding. On screen."

A man appeared, one whom Chakotay instantly recognised despite his hair being streaked with grey now, with more lines etched across his narrow features. His smile was friendly enough, but Chakotay detected a note of worry in the other man's eyes.

"Lieutenant Ducane. It's a pleasure to see you once again," Chakotay greeted, his voice strained.

"It's Captain Ducane now," he replied, indicating four pips affixed to his collar, "and I'm afraid this isn't a social visit." Seeing Voyager's commanding officer tense up, standing rigidly and staring back at Ducane, the 29th Century Captain relaxed, smiling more naturally. "Please don't look so worried, Commander. This time it isn't Voyager who has violated temporal directives."

Chakotay flopped heavily into the chair that was now his, rubbing his face with one hand and gesturing around him with the other. "It's Captain Chakotay now," he said, a choke causing the last word to break up. He didn't care, nor did he care that a tear rolled down his cheek as he continued. "Captain Janeway is dead, murdered by one of your precious _time ships_. What do you have to say about that, Ducane?"

The other man appeared shocked, and he turned to consult with a woman who seemed to be the Relativity's First Officer. Their conversation was not short, and Chakotay's patience was hanging by a very thin thread by the time Ducane faced him once again.

"We are here to ensure Voyager's survival in a temporal attack. I can explain everything…Captain -" this appellation was spoken with obvious reluctance "but I must first speak with you in private. May I beam over to your ship?"

"Transport directly to the ready room. I'll meet you there," said Chakotay, his tone low and a sickness rising in his stomach. Turning, he addressed Tuvok. "You have the conn."

As the ready room doors swished shut behind him, Captain Ducane materialised in a beam of blue light, Voyager's shields apparently posing no problem for the time ship's transporters. When his eyes fell on Chakotay, the older man grasped his hand warmly, before letting go and ushering Voyager's weary, grieving Captain to a seat.

"Captain Chakotay," he began, leaning forward and peering into Chakotay's face intently. "As I said, I am here to ensure Voyager's survival. The Enterprise was, unbeknown to her crew, the intruder into our reality. As far as we can establish, they were also stranded in this quadrant, able to move through time but only at warp speed through space. In addition to this they were transported into our reality during an encounter with an unidentified anomaly. I believe that Captain Paris genuinely thought that it was Voyager who was the intruder, and for that reason she ordered the attacks on your ship.

"In my home timeframe, in this reality, Kathryn Paris has just graduated from Starfleet Academy. I have encountered her on many occasions and at many points in time during my service aboard the Relativity, as she will encounter myself and others during her career aboard time ships. You have to understand, Captain, that where I come from, time is no longer rigid. Past and future have less meaning than they do in your timeframe. Kathryn Paris. The latter name was passed down through her family – she is a direct descendent of your helmsman. The name Kathryn was given to her by her mother, whose life was saved – will be saved, sometime in your future - by your Captain Janeway."

Chakotay's mind was reeling, but it was the last sentence that caused him to shout out, anger and despair making his voice shake and his eyes glisten. "Kathryn Janeway is dead, Captain. _Dead_! She won't save anyone's life in the future! She didn't even save her own!"

"Please, Captain, try to remain calm and listen to me. I need to ask you what happened. Was Captain Janeway killed in the attack by the Enterprise?"

"No," replied Chakotay dully. "Not directly, anyway. There was a hull breach in our Astrometrics lab. Seven-of-Nine was in there, and there was a radiation leak. Kathryn died trying to save her."

Ducane frowned, shaking his head. "This was not supposed to happen. Neither Janeway nor Seven-of-Nine should be dead. It will have repercussions that could jeopardize…" He stopped and stared straight into Chakotay's brown eyes. "I must leave now. We will meet again. Goodbye, Commander."

As the time ship Captain disappeared in a transporter beam, Chakotay registered Ducane's last words, addressing him once again as Commander.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

**Part 1**

Captain Ducane had already decided on his next course of action when he was transported back to the Relativity, for it was simply unthinkable that this timeline, so drastically thrown into chaos by the arrival of the alternate reality Enterprise, be allowed to continue. He had almost revealed the devastating effects that the loss of Kathryn Janeway and Seven-of-Nine would have on the Alpha Quadrant, though even if he had done so it wouldn't matter for much longer.

To the Captain's left, at the operations console, sat a fair-haired, attractive young woman who was working quietly, yet appeared far from relaxed. Ensign Paris knew that her Captain's actions could affect her entire life, and he had yet to inform his crew of his decision. If he chose not to right the damage caused by the Enterprise, Paris would never be able to return to the home she knows, or leave the temporally-isolated confines of the Relativity, for if Janeway's death were allowed to stand, Kathryn Paris would never have been born.

Ducane cleared his throat, and the young ensign's head jerked up, her heart pounding and her skin clammy. "I have entered new temporal co-ordinates. Ensign Paris, take the helm. And don't look so worried – we're going to fix this. It's what we do, Ensign," he reminded gently with a fatherly smile.

"Aye, Sir," replied Paris, unable to stop herself grinning as she moved.

"Raise shields," ordered Captain Ducane. "We'll be putting ourselves between the Enterprise and Voyager just before the Enterprise attacks. Their weapons are no threat to us, but I wouldn't like to get in the way of one of Voyager's quantum torpedoes."

The slim man turned to his first officer, a stocky, tough-looking woman whose real name was Lieutenant Eleanor Tuft but had always, since her Starfleet Academy days, been known as Tufty. "Are the modifications to the deflector online, Lieutenant?"

Tufty nodded once. "Yes, Captain. We will be able to open a passage to the Enterprise's reality - after we've tractored them back to the Alpha Quadrant - and push them through, whether Captain Paris -" she flashed a grin at the blonde Ensign who winced in response, "likes it or not," finished the First Officer.

"Good work, Tufty," said Ducane. They had worked together since he became the Captain of the Relativity, six years ago, and the clever, courageous woman had never let him down. "Let's go."

**Part 2**

_"Hail them."_

_"They're responding, Captain. I'm putting them on screen…now."_

_The Captain of the Enterprise appeared once again, and she did not look happy, which rather irritated Janeway since it was the Enterprise that had attacked first, without warning or explanation._

_"We meet again, Captain…?" The opening was corny from Janeway, but it served its purpose. The other woman's nostrils flared with anger at Janeway's mild tone._

_"Captain Kathryn Paris of the Time Ship Enterprise," she snarled, not noticing when the Voyager officers exchanged several long looks across their bridge. "You may think you are clever, hiding in this nebula, but you will not escape again. I have 29th century sensors and weapons at my disposal, Janeway. Goodbye, __Captain__."_

The fair-haired time ship Captain disappeared from the viewscreen, replaced by the dense swirls of nebular clouds, but as the Voyager crew watched a distortion wave rippled through the swirls of orange and red, expanding rapidly.

"What the hell is that?" exclaimed Tom Paris, staring.

Janeway stood, her head whipping round to face Tuvok, the ship's tactical officer and head of security. "Is it a weapon of some sort?" asked Janeway tightly, worry creasing her forehead. The Vulcan tapped buttons on his console, shaking his head.

"I do not believe so, Captain. The distortion did not originate from the Enterprise."

"Captain! I've got another ship on sensors; it's coming from the centre of the distortion. It's – I don't believe it!" Harry Kim's tone was incredulous.

"What is it, Harry?" demanded Janeway, her nerves tingling. Something strange was going on, of that much she was certain.

"It's the Relativity, Captain."

As Harry spoke again, the Wells-class time ship appeared on Voyager's viewscreen, and as everyone stared at the sleek, 29th century vessel a bright flash lit up the surrounding gas clouds as a weapon impacted against the Relativity's shields, followed closely by another. Janeway pulled her thoughts together and for the first time since she had entered the bridge the Captain allowed herself to relax a little as she took her seat once again.

"Hail the Relativity," ordered Janeway, and Kim complied. Ducane appeared on the screen, a decade older than when Voyager last encountered the time ship, but instantly recognised.

Before Janeway could speak, Captain Ducane began in a serious tone. "Captain, please hold your current position. I will contact you shortly." His image disappeared, and for several minutes Janeway waited, her fears and worries replaced by surprise and curiosity.

It seemed that the Relativity had shielded Voyager from attack, and for that she was grateful for she doubted that the Enterprise would have been thwarted a second time. Not a word was spoken until Ducane's face reappeared, this time smiling.

"The Enterprise is standing down, Captain. You are in no danger."

"Thank you, Captain Ducane," replied Janeway with sincerity. "I thought our goose was cooked this time. I assume that you can explain what the hell is going on, because we're all more than a little confused over here."

"I _could_ explain, Captain," started Ducane almost apologetically, and Janeway sensed a 'but' coming. She wasn't wrong. "But I'm afraid that temporal directives prohibit me from revealing most of the answers to the questions you no doubt wish to ask. The Enterprise entered our reality by accident without realising that they had done so. I will return the ship to where it belongs. Captain Paris apologises for the misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" thundered Janeway, her blue-grey eyes flashing as she jumped to her feet. "_Misunderstanding?_ You mean how she tried to destroy Voyager and kill us all? _That_ misunderstanding?"

Beside Ducane, Tufty tried to suppress a snort of laughter and failed, leaning towards her Captain and speaking in a loud stage whisper. "Maybe we should tell her she and Seven died the first time round?"

Ducane scowled and spread his delicate fingers. "Ah, yes. But, well, everything turned out alright, in the end. Though my First Officer raises an important issue, Captain Janeway. Please try and refrain from reckless actions in the future, as I may not be able to help the next time you die inconveniently. Also, I'm transporting over a temporal communicator. It will allow you to communicate with me only, Captain, and in the event that you should encounter another time ship I ask that you contact me immediately. Oh, and don't bother trying to take it to bits – Tufty here designed it and she assures me it's impossible to reverse-engineer."

A small, unremarkable metal box materialised on the floor in front of Janeway who picked it up and studied it. There were only two buttons that she could see, along with a small display which showed the device's very simple instructions. She looked up at Ducane, full of questions she knew wouldn't be answered.

"Thank you," said the Captain instead, and her 29th century counterpart nodded in response.

"All the best, Captain Janeway," Ducane said formally. "And don't give up."

With that mysterious last sentence he was gone, and the Relativity disappeared from sight. Janeway's eyes scanned her bridge, taking in the relieved expressions of her crew before finally resting on Seven-of-Nine who, uncharacteristically for the ex-Borg, refused to meet Janeway's gaze.

"Chakotay, you have the conn." Janeway walked off the bridge, not seeing her partner's anguished look as the younger woman watched her leave.

**Part 3**

The Doctor listened as Janeway recounted the story of the Relativity's arrival in the nick of time, nodding in agreement as she repeated Ducane's words which urged Janeway to be careful. The Captain had been talking with the hologram for almost an hour and, unusually for her, seemed reluctant to leave. Eventually she ran out of words and simply sat, watching the Doctor as he worked. Though there was nobody else in sick bay, there were experiments to conduct and tests to run, but Voyager's Chief Medical Officer kept glancing at Janeway, eventually stopping what he was doing and returning to face his Captain.

Snatching up a medical tricorder, he casually scanned Janeway before snapping the machine shut with a flourish. "Well, you're not ill," the Doctor remarked sardonically, before gentling his tone. "Why are you really here, Captain? And, before you answer that, I'd like you to know that Seven came to see me this morning."

Janeway squeezed her eyes shut and breathed deeply. The hologram allowed his Captain a moment before continuing.

"I've read your medical history, Captain, and I think I understand. What you suffered at the hands of the Cardassians is more than most people could have endured. But you have to deal with it, or it will continue to destroy you."

"How can I let Seven...touch me, after what they did to me?" Janeway choked in a whisper. "She's so gentle, so tender. How can I allow the woman I love to do that, after they..." She couldn't speak, her body shaking with every sob.

The Doctor waited, not wanting to interrupt. It was the first time Janeway had talked about this to him, and it was a significant step. Eventually, the Captain managed to regain a measure of control. "When she tried to go inside me, it all came back, the terror, the excruciating pain, their laughter whilst they took turns to rape me, each time more violent than the last." Finally Janeway raised her head and met the Doctor's eyes.

"I can help you, Captain. But someone else can, too. Seven loves you, and you need to talk to her before it's too late. Trust her, Captain. She will understand, and through talking about it you can work through it together."

Janeway's reply was a long time in coming. She knew that the Doctor was right, but what was certain to be the most difficult thing she had ever done may well turn out to be impossible. "I'll try, Doctor. I don't want to lose her."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

**Part 1**

Darkness. Space was full of it, contemplated Janeway. Maybe that's what had attracted her to a career with Starfleet, for she had always felt at her most peaceful when the sun began to set, shadows lengthening as the light faded. It had signalled the end of one day and the beginning of a new one, a fresh start. For this reason, the Captain's ready room was lit only by a single lamp above the chair where she sat, her legs folded under her and eyes closed.

Chakotay wondered for a moment whether Janeway was asleep, she was sitting so still when he entered and walked over to the unmoving form. But when the First Officer sat down, Janeway's head moved slightly as she glanced across to see who was disturbing her.

"Good evening, Captain. Or more precisely, good morning."

There was no reply as the Captain stared forlornly out of a window, where Voyager's warp field shimmered a pale blue. After watching for a minute, the tall, broad-shouldered man crossed silently to the couch, directly in Janeway's line of sight.

"Kathryn, you said a few days ago that you were going to need my friendship more than ever. I sense that time has come, yet you won't talk to me." He scooted closer to Janeway and reached out a tentative hand, briefly squeezing the Captain's arm. "I'm guessing it's something to do with Seven, since the Enterprise business worked out fine. Relativity to the rescue," he added drolly, remembering their encounters with that ship's previous Captain who had been driven mad during an accidental exile in the 20th century and who had tried to destroy Voyager; a recurring theme as the ship travelled across the Delta Quadrant.

There was a flicker of a smile as Janeway noted the Commander's lightly sarcastic tone, but it faded quickly, the woman's handsome features returning to a carefully neutral mask. After several silent minutes, Chakotay rose and walked slowly towards the doors. They slid open, and he was on the threshold when the Captain's low voice stopped him.

"How much do you know about me, Chakotay?"

The bear-like man turned and paused, before re-entering the ready room and waiting until the doors closed behind him. "I assume you mean in addition to what you've told me? Well, I've read your Starfleet record -"

"The official one or the classified version?" Janeway's voice was hard, but not cold, almost as though she were angry with herself and trying not to take it out on her first officer.

Chakotay decided that honesty was the way forward, for if he were to lie now, then get found out later somehow, things would be a lot worse. Maybe. "Both, Captain. The Maquis obtained classified files regarding Starfleet operations, research, personnel – anything we could get our hands on. I know more about you than I should, but I'm not sorry. I hoped that one day you would trust me enough to talk about your past."

Closing her eyes, the Captain's head dropped, making her appear smaller and more vulnerable than ever. She looked tired, her eyes dark and hair a dull red-brown, and Chakotay studied her as he waited.

"I will, one day, Chakotay. But for today, I just want to ask you one thing. If you were me, could you share what you'd been through with someone you care about, even if not telling them would mean the end of the relationship?"

The Commander was a thoughtful man who weighed his words deliberately before speaking them out loud. Janeway had not offered any insight into how she was feeling or what had prompted her question, and though he had an idea what was causing Janeway so much pain, he couldn't be too specific with his reply. He wanted to help his friend – friends, for he also counted Seven-of-Nine in that category – but he didn't want to intrude on Janeway's personal life without invitation.

"I think I would try, if I loved that person. I couldn't bear knowing that I had let them go without doing everything I could, without even giving them a chance to understand what had happened to me and how it was affecting my life, hurting me. Can I speak freely?"

"Of course, Chakotay. This isn't a conversation between a Captain and a First Officer."

"I know what the Cardassians did to you when you were their prisoner. I hated them before that, but after reading about you I wanted to kill as many Cardassians as I could. That was before I even knew you, Kathryn. Now I know that you are still suffering – let's just say I hope the war is over when we get back."

It was more than he intended to say, but Chakotay at that moment felt so protective of the small, troubled woman that he spoke from the heart. He thought of Janeway's partner in her new relationship, and hoped also for Seven-of-Nine's sake that the Federation had made peace with Cardassia, for he had no doubt that the headstrong ex-Borg would personally see to it that every Cardassian who had harmed Janeway, in any way, would pay the ultimate price.

Janeway faced her friend and met his eyes, and her next words were spoken in a slow, measured tone. "How can I tell her, Chakotay? It will…repulse her, knowing about how they…what they did. How could she ever touch me again after that?"

"Have you made love to Seven?" Chakotay's question was blunt, but the Captain didn't appear to care or even notice.

"Yes, of course."

"Despite what she suffered at the hands of the Borg? They violated her, Kathryn – not in exactly the same way, but still, she suffered greatly, physically and mentally. The Doctor had to practically rebuild her after removing the Borg implants, and still he couldn't remove them all. Does that repulse you?"

Eyes widening, tears appearing in their corners, Janeway was shocked. "No!"

Her voice sounded loud after the muted tones they had been using, and when she continued Chakotay was thankful that she had decreased the volume by a number of decibels.

"No. She couldn't stop what was done to her. It wasn't her fault. It doesn't matter…" The sentence tailed off as Chakotay smiled warmly, his point made.

"What matters is now, Kathryn. Both of you have had difficult experiences, ones that hurt you deeply. You've helped Seven to deal with the changes, to leave behind the Borg and embrace her humanity. Now, you need to talk to her about what you're dealing with, so that she can help you."

On impulse, Janeway left her chair and hugged the large man warmly. Chakotay returned the gesture, patting the Captain on the back. When she released him, he could see the change in her demeanour. Even her face was different, eyes shining blue and her mouth set in a determined line.

"I did need you," admitted Janeway, "but I didn't know how much. Tell me – do you think it's too late to call Seven, invite her for a drink? Oh, damn! It's my early shift tomorrow…"

Janeway's sly grin told Chakotay that she had not forgotten, but who was he to stand in the way of true love?

"If it were anyone else, I'd advise against it, being past 02:00 hours. But Seven will be either on duty or in Cargo Bay 2 regenerating, which she can do fine without provided she gets some sleep. She's off duty tomorrow anyway. I'll take your shift, and I'll arrange for Tom or Tuvok to take mine. Take the whole day, Kathryn. Use my holodeck allocation if you like – with yours and Seven's it will be plenty. I can get you some food and drink from Neelix; I know for a fact he has some more of that brandy."

"I hope you didn't threaten him too much," laughed Janeway. "After all, we need that sort of thing to get onto Voyager somehow. Remember that Kazon fire spirit he smuggled on board? Honestly, I was sick for days! It's not like you or I could be seen doing dodgy deals with shifty-looking traders. Maybe we could recruit B'Elanna into our little black market – I think she'd be very convincing."

Chakotay didn't answer, but grinned at the Captain. "I'll give it some thought. Good night, Captain."

"Good night, Chakotay. And thank you."

**Part 2**

The First Officer had left, but Janeway still felt optimism coursing through her as she addressed the computer briskly.

"Computer, locate Seven-of-Nine."

_Seven-of-Nine is in Astrometrics_

Janeway wasn't surprised. Seven didn't need to regenerate, and she had a dedication to her work that many of the crew could learn from. Tapping her comm badge, the Captain began to speak again, hesitantly this time. She wasn't giving an order or asking for a report, and she struggled to find the right balance.

"Janeway to Seven-of-Nine."

"Seven-of-Nine here." Flat, unemotional.

"Could you come to my quarters, Seven? It's not an order." Janeway tried to sound nonchalant.

There was a long hesitation before the ex-Borg replied, so much so that the Captain wondered if Seven were talking to someone else. It lasted for over a minute – odd during the course of a normal conversation – and Janeway began to get worried. Eventually a reply came.

"I will be there in ten minutes, Captain."

THE END

**Author's Note**

That was 'Call to Arms' – I really enjoyed that one. The next in the series will be entitled 'Call me Kathryn' and will be an episode focusing more on Janeway's and Seven's personal relationship than any other storyline.

Thank you for your comments and reviews – I'd love to hear which story out of the series you like best. I've decided to alternate in the series between 'action' stories and 'personal' stories, though it might not stay that way.

Cheers,

Sam.


End file.
